Church of Phalli 3 pages
Church of Phalli
I've been a member of The Joyful Tabernacle of Phalli since I was sixteen. I couldn't ever tell my parents about it, sure we weren't regular church goers ourselves. But both my parents were raised in church and they still held tightly to some of the ideals...if not all of them. I would still go to services every Sunday as far as my folks knew I was going to work. You may be wondering what do you worship at the Church of Phalli, well...isn't it obvious?
Okay maybe it's not entirely obvious what we worship because we don't worship penis or vagina. We actually worship life and everything that makes us happy. We believe God is actually a Tranny which totally explains the whole argument is God a man or woman, he's both honey. We also believe that God is comprised of multiple Gods. There is your God of Ferosha, God of Fashion, God of Music, God of Cuisine, and God of Sex. You have your baptisms or your sprinklings we have our coming outs. I actually came out to the congregation when I was 18. I felt it was time to accept who I've been trying to hide myself from. If it hadn't been for my friends I would have been screwed. They were the best support group for me, them and the congregation. My parents...well I didn't tell them till four years after I had my coming out ceremony.
It's been four years since I came out to my folks. Four years of...well nothing different. Really, my parents took it better than you'd ever imagine. My father, the army drill sergeant, actually told me that no force in heaven or on earth would change the fact that I'm his son and he'll love me no matter what, my father! The strictest man you'll ever meet with a temper the size of a grain of sand. Now granted I don't talk to him about boyfriend troubles, I talk to my mother about it. So for four years it's been the same old same. I've had six boyfriends and three girlfriends, all of which have ended horribly. But this story isn't about them, it's about the One. The One I'm looking for, the One I pray for, the One who'll make my life the chick flick I've always wanted it to be.
My name is Jay and this is my life.
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It was like any typical Monday in my life wake up late to go to a meaningless job to make my meager earnings that just barely pay the bills. I kept telling myself I'd finish school one day and move to sunny California to take up my life long dream of being a photographer. Then reality set in and I had to come to terms with the fact that I'd first have to find a more marketable job than washing dishes for minimum wage. Oh yeah, forgot to mention that didn't I, I'm the dishwasher slash bus-boy slash prep at Chillin' Calzone. It's a little family owned franchise here in the cheerful town of Warner Robins. I am of course being sarcastic. Whoever comes through Warner Robins and thinks this is the place to be probably grew up in a town with a single stop sign and no traffic lights. With their nearest neighbor being 3 miles in any direction. Anyways I'm off chasing rabbits again, it's Monday morning and I'm heading off to unload the truck and start prep for the day. As per usual I wake up with enough time to sink shower, do my hair, get dressed and bolt out the door. I may only live ten minutes from the place but it still takes me twenty minutes to even get out the door. Those ten minutes offer me just a little time to reflect on my life as it is currently.
Let me tell you this now, I wake up in a groggy mood, cause I am not a morning person. But those short ten minutes of quiet reflection put me in an even fouler mood. I pull in at exactly 10 in the morning the truck is already there and unloading. I get the glares from management which I shrug off as usual. I mean really; I'm here at 10 on the dot, I'm only scheduled for 10 to volume don't start with me. A quick roll of the eyes and I lean in the office door. “Hey Jill, see the truck is early yet again. Can I get the magic swipey card of doom so I can clock in?” I know, it's retarded but we have to have a manager clock us in because apparently people used to clock in half an hour before they were scheduled and then disappear out back to smoke half a pack of Newports, gag! Jill points to her usual spot of hanging her keys and I go clock in. Now I won't take you step by step because who really cares what I do in the back of the house at a restaurant, if you can't figure it out on your own...well there isn't much point in me explaining in detail.
Monday mornings are the worst they just drag on and on for what seems like hours. I'm usually stuck in the prep hole no contact with the outside world except for the off chance they walk pass me to get to the salad line. Every now and again I'll get a moment of conversation with a server who comes back to cut lemons but again, boring. No the real fun begins when I leave work for the day. I've been there for 5 hours and now it's time to 'let my hair down'. Though in this case I guess the more appropriate phrase would be 'put my hair up'. I send out a mass text through twitter, whoever thought of that needs to be kissed I'm serious. Now that everyone knows I'm off work and ready for a night on the town it's time to head home get cleaned, dressed, and smelling good. I shoot a quick prayer to the Tranny Gods that tonight be the night and I get pumped.
After an amazing shower it's time to tool over my wardrobe. “Jesus I seriously need new clothes.” Quiet contemplation on what I expect from the evening and then finally a choice. “Aeropostale jeans and my department store shirt.” Don't judge me sometimes you can get some amazing clothes from your friendly department store. Take for instance this shirt I'm wearing it's a black polo with white blood splatter across the chest. A simple crest, old lion on a red shield with two skulls and text that reads “Life of a Warrior”, over the left peck. Paired with my slim boot cut Aero jeans, a simple black belt, my worn black leather Fossil watch, a necklace that makes a small nod to my gaming lifestyle (Final Fantasy 8 necklace), and top that all off with my red Chuck Taylor's and my outfit is complete. Well almost time to style my hair, sure a faux hawk my be simple but for me, it's time consuming. Every thing about it has to be perfect. I can't stand faux hawks that are crooked, hair going every which a way, parts that are higher than others. Sure it's a chaotic style but who says I can't bring some control to it. Once that's all said and done I quickly through together a new mix and it's off to pick up my hetero life partner, Kari.
Kari is a one of a kind person, she is my support, my voice of reason, and my greatest friend. When the Tranny Gods don't speak to me directly I swear they speak through Kari to me. It's because of her and what she said to me years ago that I haven't given up looking for the one that will make me happy. She had looked me in the eyes one day after a particular harsh break up, “Looking for true love is like looking for a single diamond in a pile of shit. You're gonna have to get your hands dirty and you're gonna rummage through a lot of crap but once you find that diamond, that rare one of a kind diamond, everything else will be meaningless.” Those are words to live by I'll have you know. Granted though sometimes I get with that one guy and right off the bat I think to myself, “Have I found that diamond?” It's only later do I realize that it's yet another cubic zirconium man. You know the type, he's got the perfect body, perfect hair, knows exactly what to say to you to get you in bed. Once you're there you find yourself praying to the Tranny God of Sex that he's a quick one. He's an overgrown cream puff, you know those things that have the hard crispy shell and the fluffy white cream on the inside? Personally I think they taste like crap, but I'm sure you all get what I'm saying. At any rate it's Kari and I's night to go out window shopping in Macon and do a little Karaoke. I pick her up at her apartment and she is once again looking like a glam queen. Seriously this is one hetero woman who knows how to dress her self and she has much the same budget as myself. She hops in my car and gets herself situated and buckled as I back out. “So where are we headed to tonight?” The same question I've asked every night for the past 3 years and it's usually the same answer. “I don't know, I need food though and Karaoke!” So off to the restaurant of the day, it rotates from Sonic, Subway, Quiznoes, El Cotija, and Zaxby's. After we sit scope out the selection of guys in the restaurant we make our way to Macon. Kari sometimes have a new Glee CD to shove into my CD player but for the most part we just listen to and sing along with whatever I've got spinning.
Now Macon, Macon is where things start getting fun. It's here where the tone for the week is set. Do I get myself a week long fling, one night stand, or nothing. For the most part and lately it's been nothing. I have a good feeling about tonight though. I prayed for hours non stop at church yesterday that Tranny God of Sex would bless me with a fine piece of man. We hit up the out door mall, Shoppes on Riverside, which always has the finest selection of men. Oh just listen to me, just measuring men up like they are cattle at a meat auction...well I mean they are aren't they. Deluding yourself into thinking other gay men believe otherwise is just a sad way of going through life.
I've been a member of The Joyful Tabernacle of Phalli since I was sixteen. I couldn't ever tell my parents about it, sure we weren't regular church goers ourselves. But both my parents were raised in church and they still held tightly to some of the ideals...if not all of them. I would still go to services every Sunday as far as my folks knew I was going to work. You may be wondering what do you worship at the Church of Phalli, well...isn't it obvious?
Okay maybe it's not entirely obvious what we worship because we don't worship penis or vagina. We actually worship life and everything that makes us happy. We believe God is actually a Tranny which totally explains the whole argument is God a man or woman, he's both honey. We also believe that God is comprised of multiple Gods. There is your God of Ferosha, God of Fashion, God of Music, God of Cuisine, and God of Sex. You have your baptisms or your sprinklings we have our coming outs. I actually came out to the congregation when I was 18. I felt it was time to accept who I've been trying to hide myself from. If it hadn't been for my friends I would have been screwed. They were the best support group for me, them and the congregation. My parents...well I didn't tell them till four years after I had my coming out ceremony.
It's been four years since I came out to my folks. Four years of...well nothing different. Really, my parents took it better than you'd ever imagine. My father, the army drill sergeant, actually told me that no force in heaven or on earth would change the fact that I'm his son and he'll love me no matter what, my father! The strictest man you'll ever meet with a temper the size of a grain of sand. Now granted I don't talk to him about boyfriend troubles, I talk to my mother about it. So for four years it's been the same old same. I've had six boyfriends and three girlfriends, all of which have ended horribly. But this story isn't about them, it's about the One. The One I'm looking for, the One I pray for, the One who'll make my life the chick flick I've always wanted it to be.
My name is Jay and this is my life.
-------
It was like any typical Monday in my life wake up late to go to a meaningless job to make my meager earnings that just barely pay the bills. I kept telling myself I'd finish school one day and move to sunny California to take up my life long dream of being a photographer. Then reality set in and I had to come to terms with the fact that I'd first have to find a more marketable job than washing dishes for minimum wage. Oh yeah, forgot to mention that didn't I, I'm the dishwasher slash bus-boy slash prep at Chillin' Calzone. It's a little family owned franchise here in the cheerful town of Warner Robins. I am of course being sarcastic. Whoever comes through Warner Robins and thinks this is the place to be probably grew up in a town with a single stop sign and no traffic lights. With their nearest neighbor being 3 miles in any direction. Anyways I'm off chasing rabbits again, it's Monday morning and I'm heading off to unload the truck and start prep for the day. As per usual I wake up with enough time to sink shower, do my hair, get dressed and bolt out the door. I may only live ten minutes from the place but it still takes me twenty minutes to even get out the door. Those ten minutes offer me just a little time to reflect on my life as it is currently.
Let me tell you this now, I wake up in a groggy mood, cause I am not a morning person. But those short ten minutes of quiet reflection put me in an even fouler mood. I pull in at exactly 10 in the morning the truck is already there and unloading. I get the glares from management which I shrug off as usual. I mean really; I'm here at 10 on the dot, I'm only scheduled for 10 to volume don't start with me. A quick roll of the eyes and I lean in the office door. “Hey Jill, see the truck is early yet again. Can I get the magic swipey card of doom so I can clock in?” I know, it's retarded but we have to have a manager clock us in because apparently people used to clock in half an hour before they were scheduled and then disappear out back to smoke half a pack of Newports, gag! Jill points to her usual spot of hanging her keys and I go clock in. Now I won't take you step by step because who really cares what I do in the back of the house at a restaurant, if you can't figure it out on your own...well there isn't much point in me explaining in detail.
Monday mornings are the worst they just drag on and on for what seems like hours. I'm usually stuck in the prep hole no contact with the outside world except for the off chance they walk pass me to get to the salad line. Every now and again I'll get a moment of conversation with a server who comes back to cut lemons but again, boring. No the real fun begins when I leave work for the day. I've been there for 5 hours and now it's time to 'let my hair down'. Though in this case I guess the more appropriate phrase would be 'put my hair up'. I send out a mass text through twitter, whoever thought of that needs to be kissed I'm serious. Now that everyone knows I'm off work and ready for a night on the town it's time to head home get cleaned, dressed, and smelling good. I shoot a quick prayer to the Tranny Gods that tonight be the night and I get pumped.
After an amazing shower it's time to tool over my wardrobe. “Jesus I seriously need new clothes.” Quiet contemplation on what I expect from the evening and then finally a choice. “Aeropostale jeans and my department store shirt.” Don't judge me sometimes you can get some amazing clothes from your friendly department store. Take for instance this shirt I'm wearing it's a black polo with white blood splatter across the chest. A simple crest, old lion on a red shield with two skulls and text that reads “Life of a Warrior”, over the left peck. Paired with my slim boot cut Aero jeans, a simple black belt, my worn black leather Fossil watch, a necklace that makes a small nod to my gaming lifestyle (Final Fantasy 8 necklace), and top that all off with my red Chuck Taylor's and my outfit is complete. Well almost time to style my hair, sure a faux hawk my be simple but for me, it's time consuming. Every thing about it has to be perfect. I can't stand faux hawks that are crooked, hair going every which a way, parts that are higher than others. Sure it's a chaotic style but who says I can't bring some control to it. Once that's all said and done I quickly through together a new mix and it's off to pick up my hetero life partner, Kari.
Kari is a one of a kind person, she is my support, my voice of reason, and my greatest friend. When the Tranny Gods don't speak to me directly I swear they speak through Kari to me. It's because of her and what she said to me years ago that I haven't given up looking for the one that will make me happy. She had looked me in the eyes one day after a particular harsh break up, “Looking for true love is like looking for a single diamond in a pile of shit. You're gonna have to get your hands dirty and you're gonna rummage through a lot of crap but once you find that diamond, that rare one of a kind diamond, everything else will be meaningless.” Those are words to live by I'll have you know. Granted though sometimes I get with that one guy and right off the bat I think to myself, “Have I found that diamond?” It's only later do I realize that it's yet another cubic zirconium man. You know the type, he's got the perfect body, perfect hair, knows exactly what to say to you to get you in bed. Once you're there you find yourself praying to the Tranny God of Sex that he's a quick one. He's an overgrown cream puff, you know those things that have the hard crispy shell and the fluffy white cream on the inside? Personally I think they taste like crap, but I'm sure you all get what I'm saying. At any rate it's Kari and I's night to go out window shopping in Macon and do a little Karaoke. I pick her up at her apartment and she is once again looking like a glam queen. Seriously this is one hetero woman who knows how to dress her self and she has much the same budget as myself. She hops in my car and gets herself situated and buckled as I back out. “So where are we headed to tonight?” The same question I've asked every night for the past 3 years and it's usually the same answer. “I don't know, I need food though and Karaoke!” So off to the restaurant of the day, it rotates from Sonic, Subway, Quiznoes, El Cotija, and Zaxby's. After we sit scope out the selection of guys in the restaurant we make our way to Macon. Kari sometimes have a new Glee CD to shove into my CD player but for the most part we just listen to and sing along with whatever I've got spinning.
Now Macon, Macon is where things start getting fun. It's here where the tone for the week is set. Do I get myself a week long fling, one night stand, or nothing. For the most part and lately it's been nothing. I have a good feeling about tonight though. I prayed for hours non stop at church yesterday that Tranny God of Sex would bless me with a fine piece of man. We hit up the out door mall, Shoppes on Riverside, which always has the finest selection of men. Oh just listen to me, just measuring men up like they are cattle at a meat auction...well I mean they are aren't they. Deluding yourself into thinking other gay men believe otherwise is just a sad way of going through life.